Gil-Estel
by passionforwriting13
Summary: What if the Lord and Lady of Imladris, Elrond and Celebrían, are unexpectedly blessed with another daughter many years after Arwen's birth? Aerin Tindómiel, the Morningstar of the Elves, blessed by the Valar and Ilúvatar, will sacrifice everything in the name of love and friendship on her journey to destroy the One Ring of Sauron with the Company of the Ring. Eventual Aragorn/OC


**Prologue**

**Gil-Estel**

**Prologue: A Star Is Born**

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, plotlines, poetry, places, or things belonging to Tolkien's legendarium. I also do own anything specially created for _The Lord of the Rings _trilogy directed by Peter Jackson. I only own my OC and any adjustments made to the overall plot of the story.

* * *

**T. A. 2501**

**Rivendell (Imladris) **

A joyous sunrise painted the clouds overhanging Rivendell in pink and golden light. The morning star, which at one time was carried across the sky by Eärendil the Mariner, shone brightly against the colours of the irradiant sky. The mirthful voices of Elves singing mingled with the tranquil sounds of the water falls. The vale was filled with an excitement that had been almost forgotten in the many dark days since the War of the Last Alliance.

The Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, was one of the few who stood with the last High King of the Noldor, Gil-galad, when he fell in the Siege of Barad-dûr against the Dark Lord Sauron. Sauron fought Gil-galad and Elendil, High King of Gondor and Arnor, personally near Orodruin. Gil-galad and Elendil were slain, with the latter's sword Narsil breaking beneath him as he fell. Elendil's son Isildur used the hilt-shard of Narsil to cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand, depriving Sauron of his physical form without the power of the Ring to sustain him. Evil had been subdued…

For the moment, at least…

In spite of the Dark Lord's defeat in the War of the Last Alliance, however, evil continued to trouble Middle-earth. Deprived of their leader, the fell creatures that once followed Sauron, continued to attack the lands of Men and Elves, reveling in the bloodshed. The hideous race of Orcs and Goblins were bred by Melkor in envy and mockery of the Elves, of whom they were afterwards the bitterest foes with. Their lack of leadership after the War of the Last Alliance did nothing to quell the immense hate and envy they carried in their black hearts for everything that Ilúvatar and the Valar had created. Bands of Orcs and Goblins took refuge in the crevices of the Misty Mountains, terrorizing and raiding the lands to the East and West of the mountain range. Orcs especially loathed the descendants of Elendil, the Men of Arnor and Gondor. During the Third Age, Elrond was an ally of Arnor; following its fall, Elrond harboured the Chieftains of the Dúnedain and sheltered the Sceptre of Annúminas, Arnor's symbol of royal authority. This relationship between the Elves of Rivendell and the descendants of Arnor made the Elves of Rivendell even more hated in the eyes of the Orcs. Orcs worked their devilry all around the perimeter of Rivendell, but were kept from passing into the vale by the powers of Rivendell's Lord and his Elven ring Vilya, one of the three rings of power given to the Elves.

* * *

It had been many thousands of years since the Lord and Lady of Imladris, Elrond and Celebrían, produced an heir of the Peredhil. Their last child to be born, Lady Arwen, was well over two thousand years old when Lady Celebrían fell pregnant for the last time. And their eldest children, Elladan and Elrohir, were only a little over a century older than their sister Arwen by comparison. But the lives of Elves were perpetually long, and transcendental of the confines of mortality —of which even the great Númenóreans were subjected to abide by. Elves remained untouched by the fingers of time, and the decay that comes with aging for most beings of Middle-earth. The conception of their youngest child was an unexpected but welcome surprise to the Lord and Lady of Rivendell after so many dark years of war and bloodshed. The announcement of Celebrían's pregnancy was heartening for the Elves of Imladris, who had endured much hardship in the years preceding and following the war. As is the tradition of Elves, Elrond and Celebrían's unborn child's date of conception was celebrated as the child's birthday. For all of the hope and happiness that this child's conception brought to Imladris, the child's birthday was revered as an auspicious day amongst the Elves of Rivendell until they departed for the Grey Havens and abandoned the vale some years later.

Elves have a longer gestation period than the Men of Middle-earth; for six months — or one year according to the Elvish coranar (or 'sun round' in the Common Speech of Westron) — Celebrían grew Elrond's child in her womb. Until one day, in the middle of spring in the year 2501 T. A., Celebrían's water broke and she began to feel the pangs of childbirth. Elrond, with the assistance of many other talented healers, delivered the baby just before the first light of dawn.

It was in the early hours of the morning when the baby was born. The first light of dawn illuminated Celebrían's golden tresses as misty rays of light beamed through the windows in the East Wing of the Last Homely House East of the Sea. The exalted morning star of the Elves twinkled far up above in the sky, casting some of its pale light on the faces of the mother and the sleeping babe cradled in her arms. The melodic voices of Elves, who had gathered in the gardens and the upper gazebo below to honor their Lord's new child, rose up on the wind and drifted in through the open window along with a warm spring breeze.

At Celebrían's side was Elrond, of course. Looking down upon the fair face of his newest child, peacefully asleep in the arms of his beloved wife, the Lord of Rivendell was overcome with emotion. He wept out of happiness, tears streaming down his face as he silently but profusely thanked Eru Ilúvatar for his latest blessing.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" remarked Celebrían, drawing Elrond out of his thoughts.

Elrond surveyed the face of the babe; she was indeed a remarkably fair-looking child. She seemed to have inherited Celebrían's hair, which was the silver-golden colour of her mother Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien; who in turn inherited the silver of her hair from her mother Eärwen, and Vanyarin gold of her hair from her foremother Indis. Out of all of their children, this child was the only one to inherit such a hair colour; Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen all inherited the dark hair of their father, over the much lighter hair of their mother. The infant did, however, possess Elrond's eyes; which shone like the moon when she was content, but swirled grey like a maelstrom when she was upset or angered. Her skin was fair and as soft as milk. The faint light of the sun kissed the face of the sleeping babe, making her appear even more lovely and ethereal from the dim glow. Elrond blinked, and in a flash he glimpsed the future. It was quicker than a strike of lightning before it was gone, but the fleeting vision left an impression behind; the image of a young woman, as radiant as the sun and the moon and the stars combined, with long flowing silver-golden locks and twinkling grey eyes that shone with kindness and wisdom beyond the appearance of her youth. An aura of silver-golden light (that reminded Elrond of the light of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion) seemed to encircle her head and body, appearing as though it were radiating from within her. Elrond blinked again and the young woman was gone, replaced by the image of the morning star, once carried by Eärendil and one of the Silmarils, blinding his vision. He knew this was a prognostication of the future — in particular the future of his daughter who was but a few minutes old. His daughter was to flower into a she-elf so beautiful that she would rival that of his older daughter Arwen's beauty, and (dare he think) even that of Lúthien Tinúviel's beauty. Elrond knew in that moment that the child that Celebrían was holding in her arms was blessed by Eru Ilúvatar himself, and that she was to be the newest incarnation of the Morning Star of the Elves. It was clear to the Lord of Rivendell that his youngest daughter's unexpected conception was no happy accident, but rather a part of the divine design of the Valar and Ilúvatar. The role, and the size of the role, that the infant would play in future events was beyond Elrond's foresight. However, he was certain of at least one thing: no matter what was to come to pass, his youngest daughter was born to serve a purpose.

"What shall we call her, my love?" asked Celebrían, eyes trained on the baby in her arms with adoration and love. She wished she could look upon her child's face forever in bliss.

"She needs a name fitting of such a remarkable creation of Eru Ilúvatar…" mused Elrond aloud, as he racked his brain for the right name.

Just then, there was a knock at the door of the chamber in the East Wing. In entered Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían's other three children. Elladan and Elrohir escorted their sister Lady Arwen to the sickbed that their mother Lady Celebrían lay in with their new sibling. Arwen looked as beautiful as ever in an emerald green and silver velvet raiment. Ornating her long dark hair were intricately designed hair clips that were embedded with emeralds and pearls. She beamed with joy when she regarded the infant nestled against her mother's bosom. Tears that sparkled like crystals pearled in the corners of her eyes out of the overwhelming happiness she felt at finally having a younger sibling —in particular a younger sister, to cherish and nurture.

"This babe is a great blessing to us all," Arwen proclaimed, voicing one of Elrond's earlier thoughts. "I believe that Malbeth the Seer prophesied my sister's birth. In his last days, he spoke of a peredhil girl who would be born with the light of Telperion and Laurelin trapped in her hair. It was said that that girl would be a guiding star for Middle-earth in times of great darkness and hopelessness. Lo! Even the morning star of Eärendil attends to my sweet sister's birth and lights up the sky in observance of such an event."

Elladan and Elrohir stared in awe and at a loss of words at the infant that was their new baby sister. It had been many years since Arwen's birth, and they had forgotten what it was like having a baby in the family. They wholeheartedly agreed with Arwen's assertion that this baby was a gift from the Valar and Ilúvatar. It had been so long since their parents had had Arwen, it only made sense that the newest addition to their family was a gift from above. Mayhaps to bring joy and hope to the people of Rivendell? Whatever the case, Elladan and Elrohir immediately fell in love with their new baby sister and vowed that they would protect her from all harm at all costs.

"Your sister still needs a name, my children," said Celebrían.

"What about… Rîlnith?" Arwen proposed, "It means 'brilliant sister.' I certainly think it fits her well." She grinned as the baby cooed in her sleep when Arwen stroked the back of the baby's tiny hand, the sound seeming almost angelic to Arwen's ear.

"Or what about Oriel? She reminds me of the sunlight in the morning," Elrohir chimed in.

"I think she suits Aewien because she reminds me of a small bird," said Elladan.

"Elirien would be a beautiful name for her as well," said Arwen, "It means 'to bless,' and our new sister is certainly a great blessing to us all."

"Aerin is a beautiful name and it means 'the one who desires the sea,'" Elrohir added to the growing list of names.

"These are wonderful suggestions, my children," said the Lord of Rivendell, "But perhaps we need more time and another's opinion to make a final decision…"

Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían elected to put off choosing a name for their newest daughter until they were struck by the right one, or else one of the suggestions jumped out at them as being the right one. In the meantime, they decided to enjoy this time alone with their family before they presented their daughter to the people of Rivendell, and the many honoured guests who had travelled from far and wide to attend the birth of the Lord of Rivendell's fourth child.

* * *

The birth of a new child of Elrond and Celebrían was cause for much celebration amongst the Elves of Imladris. The whole vale celebrated from dawn to dusk with singing and feasting and dancing and merriment. Many noblemen of both the Elves and Men had come to visit Rivendell to give their congratulations and well-wishes to the new parents. Even some of the dwarves came bearing gifts of precious metals and gemstones to present to the infant. Dáin son of Náin II and his brother Borin brought gifts from Ered Mithrin for the tiny she-elf; presenting her with twin daggers made of steel and encrusted with moonstones; as well as a ring made from the gold deposits in the Grey Mountains that bore a diamond that shined so bright it could almost be mistaken for one of the Silmarils. Celebrían's parents, the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim, Celeborn and Galadriel, travelled all the way from Lothlórien with a host of twenty elven noblemen and women across the Misty Mountains to attend their grandchild's birth in Imladris. As gifts for their granddaughter, they brought a bow and quiver made of mallorn wood, and arrows fitted with swan feathers. They also brought a green jewel set in an eagle-shaped silver brooch which once was known as the Stone of Eärendil, as well as a circlet of mithril and gold adorned with starlike crystals. Even the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Arahad I son of Araglas, travelled from the North-western regions of Eriador with twenty Rangers of the North to present Elrond's daughter with gifts. From Arahad and his host, the baby received a sword of great value named Ringil which was once wielded by her forefather Fingolfin, and which glittered like ice with a pale light. The Chieftain of the Dúnedain explained to Elrond the mysterious circumstances in which he had discovered the legendary sword in the cave of a hill-troll in the Coldfells north of Rivendell. The sword Ringil was an impressive and generous gift indeed; the Chieftain of the Dúnedain had more than honoured Elrond's daughter with such a mighty present. The Dúnedain could have benefitted from keeping the long forgotten (but powerful) sword for themselves, but the descendants of the lost kingdom of Arnor valued their friendship with Rivendell much, much more than any sword. Also representing the race of Men, were emissaries on behalf of the Lord of Minas Tirith, the House of Dol Amroth, and the Éothéod horse-lords from Framsburg.

Most surprising of all guests, the wizard Gandalf the Grey arrived about midday, riding in from the West across the ford of Bruinen. Mithrandir, as he was known amongst the Elves, would give the baby the most important gift of all…

Gandalf and Lady Galadriel would give Elrond's youngest daughter her name.

* * *

That evening a feast was held in Elrond's Hall. Elrond, as was the custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; next to Lord Elrond was his wife Celebrían, who had the baby still cradled in her arms. Across from Celebrían sat Mithrandir, then Elladan and Elrohir and Lady Arwen across from them. Then sat Celeborn and Galadriel across from Dáin and Borin. At the end of the table was seated Arahad of the Dúnedain. Beneath the long table on the dais, many other side-tables full of noble Elven lords and ladies filled the hall with a cheerful chatter. Amongst the noble Elven lords and ladies in attendance were: Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm, and his son Prince Legolas Greenleaf; Círdan the Shipwright, the Master of the Grey Havens, and his counsellor Galdor of the Havens; Glorfindel, the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower; and Erestor, one of Elrond's chief counsellors. Elrond's Hall had never seen such a remarkable gathering.

Sitting at the head of the long table, Lord Elrond looked every bit the picture of a great King. The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though on it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. On this day, however, Elrond looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders; he couldn't have looked more content or blissful if all of the harrowing effects of the Accursed Years had been reversed. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men.

Lord Elrond stood up from his high-backed chair and cleared his throat. The chatter in the hall quickly subsided. The guests of the feast waited attentively for the Lord of Imladris' speech. Even the Dwarves, who generally didn't much care for Elves, were eager to hear what the Lord of Rivendell was about to say. It was a widely accepted verity that the Eldar, especially those descended from the Noldorin, had an unparalleled way with words.

"Thank you all for gathering from near and far — from the region of Forodwaith in the North to Gondor in the South, from the Rhovanion in the East to Eriador in the West — to celebrate with my family and I the birth of our youngest daughter. My family — myself, my wife Lady Celebrían, my sons Lords Elladan and Elrohir, and my daughter Lady Arwen — have verily been blessed by the Valar and Eru Ilúvatar with this newest addition to our family! May the light of Valinor rain down upon my daughter, bestowing her with the wisdom and beauty of the Blessed Realm! Now, my friends, it is time to feast and be merry for this is an occasion that calls for glee and festivity!"

Without another word, the guests tucked into the delectable banquet that was tirelessly prepared by the Elves of Rivendell and set out before them. The platters of savoury victuals and sweet confections that adorned the banquet tables were quickly devoured by the guests. Elrond's Hall buzzed with noise during the course of the feast. Mirthful laughter and casual chatter echoed off of the walls, while Elvish minstrels and harpers performed in the background.

"Elrond, my friend," Gandalf began, "I am truly delighted to see you so happy and prospering after so many years oppressed by the evil forces that have plagued the lands surrounding Imladris. This day feels verily auspicious for the Children of Ilúvatar; I believe posterity will come to regard your daughter's birth day as a turning point for the races of Elves and Men in the constant struggle against the Darkness that wishes to destroy Middle-earth. I regrettably do not have anything worthy in my possession to give to a Lady of Rivendell and a descendant of the House of Hador. I can only offer to bestow a blessing on the child on behalf of my masters the Valar Manwë and Varda."

Elrond's eyes twinkled, "A blessing from a Maia in the service of the Ruler of Arda and Queen of the Valar is more than an acceptable offering. Even so, Mithrandir, I would ask one more favour of you. My family and I require your counsel, my wise friend. We need your help choosing a suitable name for our newest child."

Gandalf chuckled, "I will certainly try my best to be of service and guide you towards the right name, though I must confess that I have never had to choose a name for someone before, and I fear that I will do more harm than good in this case."

When everyone had filled their plates at least twice and all of the platters were nearly empty, Elrond rose and an elf named Lindir announced that the party would be relocating to the Hall of Fire for the rest of the evening. In the Hall of Fire elvish minstrels made sweet music while noble lords recalled tales of valour. Elrond took a seat in a high-backed chair in front of the hearth, the light of the embers casting orange shadows across his fair face. Before long, Elrond beckoned Gandalf to his side. Then the elvish minstrels of Rivendell began singing the hymn for Varda called 'A Elbereth Gilthoniel.'

_A Elbereth Gilthoniel_

_silivren penna míriel_

_o menel aglar elenath!_

_Na-chaered palan-díriel_

_o galadhremmin ennorath,_

_Fanuilos, le linnathon_

_nef aear, sí nef aearon!_

_A Elbereth Gilthoniel_

_o menel palan-díriel,_

_le nallon sí di'nguruthos!_

_A tiro nîn, Fanuilos!_

_O Elbereth Starkindler,_

_white-glittering, slanting down sparkling like a jewel,_

_the glory of the starry host!_

_Having gazed far away_

_from the tree-woven lands of Middle-earth,_

_to thee, Everwhite, I will sing,_

_on this side of the Sea, here on this side of the Ocean!_

_O Elbereth Starkindler,_

_from heaven gazing afar,_

_to thee I cry now beneath the shadow of death!_

_O look towards me, Everwhite!_

Gandalf found himself contemplating the lyrics of the hymn and recalling his mistress Varda Elentári of the Valar, whom the hymn was dedicated to. Gandalf produced a long wooden pipe and tobacco from within his grey cloak, and began to inhale its smoke and blow thick rings of smoke up into the air. The light of the fire made the smoke rings glow dimly like the sun behind the clouds.

"What troubles your mind, Mithrandir?" Elrond questioned, after several moments of sitting in comfortable silence while the elvish minstrels chorused in the background and the fire crackled in the hearth.

"Pardon my distraction, my friend," Gandalf apologized with a small smile, though his eyes looked weary, "I was just reminiscing about my early years in Valinor, and thinking of my mentors from those days: the Valar Manwë, Varda, Irmo, and Nienna. Much time has passed since I left Valinor on the mission imparted to the order of the Istari by the Valar of counseling and assisting all those who oppose Sauron."

"And there is still much time yet that must pass before that mission is completed," Elrond stated knowingly, "You grow weary of the task appointed to you, Gandalf?"

"No, not entirely... I confess that sometimes the many ages that have passed cause my task to weigh heavily on my shoulders. But I will find no peace or rest (weary or not) until the evil of Sauron has been put to an end and my task finally completed," Gandalf swore solemnly, his eyes hardening with conviction.

"You long for the Undying Lands," Elrond discerned.

"Of course I do," Gandalf said, sharing a wry smile with the Lord of Rivendell before his countenance turned solemn once more, "But returning to Valinor without completing my task will never be an option. I will either return to the Undying Lands successful in my task, or I will perish here in Middle-earth fighting against the power of the Dark Lord with my last breath. I could never face the Valar whom I serve if I were to fail in my mission — especially not my tutor Nienna, the Lady of Mercy, who weeps for every wound Arda has suffered in the marring of Melkor, and the darkness he has brought to Middle-earth."

"In times of darkness, I am emboldened most by turning my mind towards Elbereth Gilthoniel and my family; reminding myself of the light when it is imperative that I must face the darkness that discourages me," Elrond advised sagely, but with an air of empathy and care for his friend.

"What are we doing?" Gandalf said all of a sudden, "We must stop this foolishness at once. This is no time for brooding and talk of darkness. We should be celebrating the birth of your child! Such a blessing from the Valar is a sign of the times of light to come!"

Elrond gestured for one of the servants bearing a bottle of wine to come over. The servant offered Elrond and Gandalf each a crystal glass and then poured each glass full to the brim with red wine.

Gandalf raised his glass in a toast, "To your newborn daughter, Lord Elrond! May she be blessed by the High King of Arda and the Queen of the Stars themselves!"

"Hear, hear!" exclaimed Círdan, who overheard Gandalf's cheers to Elrond and his daughter.

All of a sudden, the party stopped to cheer and raise their glasses. "To the Lord Elrond and his new daughter!" Círdan cheered and the rest of the guests repeated before they all downed their drinks.

The elvish minstrels struck up a new tune on their lutes and began to sing the Song of Beren and Lúthien.

_The leaves were long, the grass was green,_

_The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_

_And in the glade a light was seen_

_Of stars in shadow shimmering._

_Tinúviel was dancing there_

_To music of a pipe unseen,_

_And light of stars was in her hair,_

_And in her raiment glimmering._

_There Beren came from mountains cold,_

_And lost he wandered under leaves,_

_And where the Elven-river rolled_

_He walked alone and sorrowing._

_He peered between the hemlock-leaves_

_And saw in wonder flowers of gold_

_Upon her mantle and her sleeves,_

_And her hair like shadow following._

_Enchantment healed his weary feet_

_That over hills were doomed to roam;_

_And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,_

_And grasped at moonbeams glistening._

_Through woven woods in Elvenhome_

_She lightly fled on dancing feet,_

_And left him lonely still to roam_

_In the silent forest listening._

"Congratulations, my daughter's husband, on your latest blessing," the mellifluous but deep and rich voice of Lady Galadriel spoke from behind Gandalf and Elrond.

"Lady Galadriel," Gandalf exclaimed, turning around and bowing his head out of reverence, "Rivendell rejoices for being graced with your divine presence once again!"

"Rivendell rejoices for more than just my presence, Mithrandir," Lady Galadriel said with a sparkle in her eye and a small but playful smile. "Today is a momentous occasion, Elrond — for your family, of course… but also for Middle-earth and the fate of the Eruhíni. I have seen many visions in my Mirror as of late, showing me what might come to pass in the life of your youngest daughter; showing me what paths she may walk in the course of her lifetime. From what I can discern from my visions, I believe that the future of the Quendi and Atani in Middle-earth is intrinsically interwoven with your daughter's fate. She will be famed for her beauty, valour, wisdom, and foresight by many of the Free Folk and for generations upon generations to come… But she will also be famed for the great many sorrows and torments that she will be forced to endure for the good of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. She will make your father Eärendil's Choice, and she will likely choose mortality for the sake of the Edain."

Elrond's face fell slightly, though it was almost imperceptible. His timeless grey eyes that had seen many ages in Arda come to pass seemed troubled by Galadriel's predictions.

"You seem troubled, Lord Elrond," Lady Galadriel observed.

"I will not lie to you, Lady of Light, you discern correctly; I am troubled. Troubled by the possibility that my daughter, who has been alive for but a few hours and still remains nameless, is destined to suffer and make sacrifices for the sake of the Edain and Middle-earth — a race and continent that she does not belong to, and who she has no ties to! Mortality is an affliction I would not wish upon any elf, let alone my youngest child!"

Lady Galadriel touched Elrond's shoulder lightly, a calmness flowing over him suddenly. "Do not despair, Elrond. Your daughter's fate is not set in stone. Her destiny, though weaved and designed by the Valar and Ilúvatar himself, will ultimately be determined by your daughter's choices. Many different paths will present themselves to your daughter as she journeys through her life. Every decision she will come to make will lead her further down her chosen path — a path both self-determined and predestined. That being said, do not worry about your daughter's choice. If my visions are correct and truly come to pass, your daughter's choice to become mortal will be just that — your daughter's choice. Although I saw great suffering in your daughter's future, I also saw great love. If my visions do not deceive me, your daughter will experience a love that will rival even that of Beren and Lúthien's love for one another."

"You cannot mean to say that my daughter will give up immortality and the opportunity to spend eternity with her family in the blessed Undying Lands for the love of a mortal man, can you?" Elrond objected, deeming the thought of his daughter choosing mortality almost unthinkable. In spite of how impossible Elrond tried to convince himself it was, a part of him deep down knew that Galadriel was no deceiver, and that his daughter choosing to spend only a short lifetime with a mortal man instead of an eternity with her family was entirely a possibility. This thought terrified Elrond and would haunt him for years to come.

"That is one of the things that could come to pass, yes," Galadriel agreed, "But there is also a possibility that she will choose to remain immortal and sail West with the rest of her family to the Undying Lands. It will all depend on what choices she will make in the years to come. I cannot foresee everything with certitude; my Mirror shows me possibilities not certainties, and I must use my own insight and wisdom to discern the meanings behind the visions it shows me. For all the evidence we have besides visions and prophecies and intuitions, we could all be wrong about the gravity of this child's birth; she could have no bearing whatsoever on the events to come… That being said, I am Lady Galadriel of the Royal house of the Noldor and I was taught by Melian the Maia herself in the art of divination. It is unlikely that my predictions will prove to be unfounded."

"There is no sense in worrying about the future right now when we have no power to change it," Gandalf said, making himself known once more, as Elrond and Galadriel had been so absorbed in their own conversation and seemingly forgotten his presence. Gandalf placed a comforting hand on Elrond's shoulder, "This should be a happy day, Elrond. You have been blessed by the Valar with another daughter after thousands of years that you never thought you would have… Whatever will come to pass, all you can hope for is that your daughter will walk her own path and choose her own destiny."

Elrond sighed in resignation, "Perhaps you are right, Mithrandir. There is no sense in brooding on things that are out of my control - especially on such a high day as this! I daresay the Hall of Fire shall never see such an occasion as this again. I am truly grateful to be blessed by the Valar and Ilúvatar once again with another daughter after so many years have passed by since Arwen's birth… But, as any father should, I will always worry about the well being of my children. I have been a new father again for less than a day - my daughter has yet to even be named - and already I have fallen in love with her. I would sooner die and go to the Halls of Mandos than ever allow her to come to any harm."

"Your daughter is verily fortunate to have such a caring father," Gandalf assured Elrond.

"Let us dwell no more on the uncertain future ahead," Elrond ordered, "Rather let us focus our attention on the present task of choosing a suitable name for my daughter who still remains nameless."

Gandalf was surprised to find himself daunted by the task of choosing a name for Elrond's daughter. Helping choose a name for someone who would likely come to be remembered and important was a big responsibility. "What names have already been suggested?" the wizard inquired.

"My eldest children have made many suggestions. Arwen suggested Rîlnith and Elirien, Elladan offered Aewien, and Elrohir put forth Oriel and Aerin."

"Aerin… that has a nice sound to it," Gandalf mused, "Aerin means 'she who desires the Sea' in Sindarin, does it not?"

"That name seems fitting," Galadriel spoke up, "Whether your daughter chooses to remain in Middle-earth or not, she will certainly desire (as all Elves do) to cross the Sundering Seas to get to Eldamar."

"That settles it," Elrond announced, "My daughter shall be named Aerin, in the hope that someday the sea-longing that lies in the hearts of all of our kindred shall prompt her to sail across the Great Sea to be with the rest of her family in Aman."

Before Gandalf or Galadriel could say another word, Elrond stood up from his seat and strode over to his wife Celebrían who was cradling their daughter in her arms on the other side of the hall. Elrond gently took the baby from his wife's arms as the room waited eagerly in silence for the Lord of Imladris to say or do something.

"Hear this, honoured guests," Elrond's clear and authoritative voice rang out, "This child shall be called Aerin, Lady of Rivendell and the Morningstar of the Elves. Let us rejoice for the birth of Aerin Tindómiel, a blessed gift from the Valar!"

"Hear, hear! A toast to Aerin Tindómiel!" a lone and indistinctive voice shouted out from the crowd.

"To Aerin Tindómiel! Lady of Rivendell and Morningstar of the Elves!" the room bellowed in response.

After the toast to Elrond's newly named daughter, the Hall of Fire erupted into celebration. From that point on, the guests celebrated even more vigorously than before. Many casks of wine and platters of confections were consumed, many songs and ballads were sung, and many stories and tales of old were told. It would be in the wee hours of the morning before the party in the Hall of Fire would finally begin to dwindle.

* * *

Little did the Lord of Rivendell, the Lady of Light, and Gandalf the Grey realize at the time to what extent Aerin's fate would be tied to that of Middle-earth's. Across the Misty Mountains in the forests of Mirkwood, Sauron was fortifying his secret stronghold of Dol Guldur. Less than 50 years before, the One Ring of Sauron that had disappeared for almost two and a half millennia and was forgotten by even the oldest of the Elven-wise, resurfaced and was discovered in the River Anduin by a Stoor Hobbit. Dark times lay ahead for Middle-earth, but Aerin would grow in light, grace, and goodness with each waking sunrise. The Morningstar of the Elves would come to play an integral role in the destruction of the Ring and the return of Hope to Middle-earth…


End file.
